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  And the bids rang in my ears like the most melodious music.

  “One point five.”

  “One point seven five.”

  “Two million. Is there three?” came the woman’s voice, unperturbed. Holy cow! The current asking price for my body was three million? I trembled involuntarily, still nude on the floor with the camera trained on my twat, holding my legs apart, folds glistening wetly. I wanted more, I wanted these men to bid more. After all, they were billionaires and a few million was nothing to them, wouldn’t even make a dent in their net worth. Even more, I wanted the dark man to bid on me, I wanted him to take me, to be the victor.

  So like an experienced whore, I pitted him against another man. Slowly standing, I swiveled to face the man pounding on the window of his booth. This alpha was hot, for sure. He was different from the dark man, his hair a sandy blonde, those eyes a deep green, and I saw that he hadn’t been pounding with his hand actually, but with some type of cane, a gnarled wood stick, elaborately carved. What the hell? But nonetheless, he had the juice to make it happen, and I knew just how to do it.

  Sashaying over to his window, I came within inches of it, looking into that deep, devilish green. Oh yeah, he was handsome for sure, those even white teeth, the strong jaw, the immaculate black suit. And teasingly, I ran a small hand down my body to dip between my legs, sampling the nectar within. But instead of fingering myself, instead of giving him a show, I brought the finger back up, coated in my clear nectar and gently trailed it on the viewing pane, outlining the shape of a heart with my pussy juice.

  Juvenile? Yes. Lame? Yes. More money? Absolutely YES. Because the bidding rocketed to new heights then, the blonde man furiously typing into his console, fingers flying. And I heard the woman’s voice behind me intoning new numbers.

  “Three million.”

  “Three five.”

  “Four million.”

  But this was an auction, and stoking the competition, pitting the billionaires against one another, was the name of the game. So blowing a kiss to the blonde man, I wiggled my ass, making my boobies shake enticingly, and slowly sashayed away to stand before the dark man’s window once more.

  But I wasn’t prepared for what was inside. Because instead of eating me up, instead of grinning at me and making more lewd hand gestures, the dark man was angry. He sat rock still in his console, clearly not bidding, merely staring, those blue eyes dangerous, so dark they were almost black.

  And panic rushed through my frame then. Oh god, this had all been for him. I wasn’t really interested in the blonde man, wasn’t really interested in any other man whatsoever. It’d been a ploy to get him to bid higher, I never wanted anyone except him, I wanted him, no needed him to win this auction. Because deep inside, I knew only with him would I truly enjoy the wonders of being a woman, with anyone else it’d be an act, a fake plastic smile pasted on my face as another man rammed into me, taking my virginity, painful, unfeeling.

  So what could I do? I was desperate and wiggled enticingly, smiling at him, running my hands up and down over my curves, cupping my breasts, pulling at the pink nipples. Just fifteen minutes ago, he would have been into it, probably stroking himself in the booth, letting me see his dick as I danced. But now that I’d teased his friend, danced for another man, he was fucking angry, and didn’t get up from his chair, watching me dispassionately.

  Another nervous shudder of desperation ran through my frame again. Oh god, what if he didn’t bid? What if he didn’t win me? I couldn’t bear the thought and a hot rush of shame coursed through my body. I needed this man, this man only, he was the one who could usher me into womanhood, the best guide possible. And so I tried one trick after another. Turning on my heel, I leaned over and pulled my ass cheeks apart, giving him another view of my slit and brown pucker, both glimmering, winking at him invitingly. But I upped my game. Pedaling backwards with slow steps, I edged myself closer to the viewing pane until my ass was pressed right up against the window, a huge heart shape outlined on the glass. And slowly, I gyrated, rubbing my pussy and anus against the smooth surface, letting him see everything up close and personal. Shit, this was getting desperate and I ground even harder, my privates now for him only.

  But it wasn’t enough. When I pulled back, the outline of my ass was there on the glass, a bit of condensation from my hot flesh and oh god, but you could even see the mark of my pussy, the stain of my slit, wet and gooey. But the dark man shook his head imperceptibly. He wasn’t impressed, he was still angry.

  So I did the only thing I had left. Taking off one of my silver heels, I brushed it off lightly before nipping at the silver satin. Thank god this place was immaculately clean, all the surfaces sterilized. The shoe wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t soiled at all, and had only been worn for fifteen minutes, ever since I went up for auction. Because it was my only prop in this place, my only weapon. So licking it slightly, my pink tongue extended, I trailed it down my body to play with my folds. Oh yeah, the silver shoe tickled my pussy lips, the satin going dark as it was drenched with my juices. I rubbed the heel against clit, grinding a bit, undulating suggestively and the big man nodded slightly then.

  Thank god he liked it. Bless my heart, I was on the right track once more. My eyes beseeched him, begging him silently to bid again, to re-join the auction, and his fingers tapped lightly at the console in response.

  “Four million,” the woman’s voice rang out from behind me. “We have reached four million. Is there four five?”

  I thought for sure, the bidding would end then, that I’d be sold for four million to the dark man. But immediately, the computerized voice continued.

  “We have four five. Is there five on the floor?”

  I begged, I pleaded, rubbing the shoe against my private parts, silently begging him to win me from one of his compatriots. And the dark man nodded once more, this time making a gesture with his hand that was unmistakable. I gasped, face growing hot, boobies trembling. Did he …? Really, he wanted that? But I couldn’t say no. I wanted him so desperately, wanted him so deep, so hard inside myself that I was willing to sail into uncharted waters.

  Because I turned and bent over then, pulling my thick thighs apart and exposing myself once more. I could have backed up against the window again, given him another ass kiss, but he wanted more. And so I obeyed.

  With one slow hand, I brought the shoe around to my back and slowly slid it up and down my ass crack. The satin was drenched, the silver no longer silver, instead a deep grey from the coating of pussy juice. But it wasn’t just a rub this guy was after. Looking through my legs so that our eyes interlocked, slowly, I did as he commanded. I angled the heel so it was pointed straight at my brown pucker, and gently, oh so gently, pushed it in a bit.

  Unnf! Although I’d had my fingers in there not minutes before, it felt different with something hard. And I could only imagine how it looked, the silver shoe protruding from my huge ass cheeks, the heel like a spike, embedded in my butt.

  But the big man hadn’t gotten enough. With a sly grin, he moved his hand up and down a bit and it was totally clear what he wanted. I had to fuck myself lightly with it, I had to ass fuck myself a bit before he’d jump back into the game.

  So taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, pretending it was his dick instead of this designer stiletto. And with slow fingers, I pushed it deeper into my ass before withdrawing, my little pucker clinging to the heel before it was rammed in again. I wasn’t doing a deep ass-fucking, no way, I couldn’t, that was just too wrong, he would have to do it to me. But a half inch, even one inch? I could handle that. So moaning slightly, I lifted my face so that it was in profile, eyes closed, brown curls drifting over my shoulders. And with one hand, I began buttfucking myself with the shoe, the sexy, elegant heel dipping into my anus again and again. Fuck, it was raunchy, it was wrong, but it was also broke through every one of my boundaries, lifting me to new heights, new colors exploding on my closed eyelids. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, this is what I needed, the bi
g man in my back end, deep dicking me instead of this article of clothing.

  And with that the woman’s voice rang out.

  “Five million. Sold to Bidder Five for five million. Bid final.”

  My eyes flew open then, meeting the dark man’s gaze through the glass that separated us. Was it him? Was he Bidder Five? I hoped so, I prayed so and my eyes melted as that ice blue took me in, the alpha’s face expressionless even as I continued to move the shoe in and out of myself. God, what was he thinking? I was dying to know, face flushed, body hot given the illicit movements of my body, my hand.

  But the auction had concluded and suddenly two handlers were on me, pulling the shoe from my grasp, grabbing me by the elbows and helping me stand.

  “Thank you for participating,” came the woman’s voice once more neutrally. “This auction is concluded.”

  I stumbled, panting, breathless still as the handlers hustled me over to one side, the door in the wall sliding open with a slight hiss. Thank god it was over, this night had been beyond my wildest expectations and I threw one last look at the dark man, brown eyes wide. He’d bought me right? The alpha had to be Bidder Five.

  But I was only one cog in the wheel, because the woman’s voice came on once more.

  “Gentlemen, please prepare yourself for Article Thirty-One, who hails from our very own Silver State,” she said mildly. “Article Thirty-One, step in, please.”

  And I gasped, my head jerking around as another door slid open a few feet from where I paused. Sure enough, a caped figure was revealed, draped in blue just like me, and oh god, she had silver shoes on as well, the delicate points peeping out from beneath the velvet cloak. What had I been thinking? That I was special? That I was unique, a snowflake, that the dark man had to have me? Because reality came crashing over me then. I was nothing, merely tonight’s entertainment for a short fifteen minutes. In fact, the next act was here already, and as I was pulled into a dark hallway, the door hissing shut, I realized I was nothing but yesterday’s news, an item, a parcel, a commodity, easily interchangeable. There were girls everywhere dying to be a part of the auctions, to make a little money, and Annie James was only a face in the crowd.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Andrew

  She was a firecracker for sure. I’ve been to a couple auctions and the goods have always been Triple A. After all, that’s what we pay Club employees for. We retain the best of the best, the brightest, most discreet, most resourceful individuals to represent the Club in our many dealings.

  And we have to, because what we do isn’t exactly kosher. Oh it’s all legal, the gambling rings, the high stakes betting, the investment groups, the sheep farms, you name it. But it’s not like this shit would go down easy with the general populace, not to mention the police. So we have to have the best people, from our lawyers and accountants to our recruiters, our chauffeurs, our drivers, hell, even our baggage guys. Every aspect of the club is hush-hush, and we prefer it that way, flying under the radar, enjoying wealth and sumptuous luxury in the utmost privacy.

  And yeah, the auctions are probably the most controversial of our operations. Not controversial within the Club, hell no. Club members love this shit. The opportunity to view fine female flesh, to bid for a week with a beautiful girl, to play with her, use her, fuck her, toy with her, and then turn her loose with nothing but a couple diamonds and a huge deposit into her bank account? It’s a dream come true for rich guys.

  Because we’ve got women hanging off our every word, sprouting from our ears. Fuck, if I walked down the street in New York, there was sure to be some hussy throwing herself in my path. But that’s the problem. In normal life, you have to wine, dine, take a female out, and even worse, keep her around after you fuck. And the wining and dining isn’t so bad, I don’t mind the chase. But what I do mind is dealing with the endless demands after you fuck her, how you need to buy her this, help her with that, or worst of all, listen to her talk. Yeah, that’s the ultimate. There’s nothing like a woman’s talk going on and on after a fuck, just when you want to kick her out of bed, body sated, depleted, and frankly, just done.

  So yeah, the auctions take care of that problem. Because we’re able to say sayonara efficiently, skipping the useless whining, the entreaties of “more, more, more.” Instead, the girls take their money and leave, grateful for the cold, hard cash, no feelings, no messy emotions dragging on and on. It’s a great set-up, and frankly the auctions are my favorite part of the Billionaires Club. I’ve indulged a couple times, yeah, won a couple girls and it’s right up my alley. Fuck, I’m thinking of giving up dating in real life and just sating myself through the nymphets offered by the Club.

  But tonight’s girl had been a real firecracker. Lush, pouty lips and big brown eyes were only the start of it. The brunette had a way about her, a sensuousness that made my dick stiff the minute that fine figure was nude. I dunno, it was how she rolled her hips, how she glanced at me sassily, working those luscious assets like a pro to make a man come.

  And given how she’d behaved, it was shocking that Article Thirty was a virgin still. Fuck, I wouldn’t have believed it but I’d seen the evidence myself, the camera had zoomed in on that hymen and it was absolutely gorgeous, the thin veil shielding her secrets within, moist, beautiful, begging to be penetrated by a man’s dick, making the woman whine and moan as she sampled her first cock, got a deep pole for the first time.

  And I was gonna be that guy. Because yeah, I should have been immune to her wriggling, to those huge assets bouncing around everywhere, to the dirtiness of her acts. But I wasn’t, and I’m not. I’m a man and this woman was right up my alley, exactly what I needed to slake my thirst, to spill my seed. Because this was no stick-thin skinny Minnie. This was no society X-ray who looked like a gristly chicken with her clothes off. Instead, this was a full-figured goddess, her tits mountains of snow white capped with pink crests, a giant ass in back, the orbs fleshy and almost glowing under the lights of the auction chamber. And fuck, those thighs. I love thick thighs, huge ham hocks that I can bite into, leave a couple teeth imprints, the evidence of a man’s lust.

  So yeah, I bought Article Thirty, I’d beat out that fucker Travis in the other booth. I fucking hate Travis, I’d seen how he looked at her, that shitface’s eyes traveling all over her body, his pounding with the cane. What the fuck? He was working his disability like some egomaniac, using the gnarled wood to get her attention, to draw her over to his side of the room.

  But fuck, money talks and my fingers flew at the controls determinedly then. Because I won my baby for five million dollars. Five million big ones, half of it for the girl after our week of sin was over. She’ll be rich sure, but even more, she’ll never forget me. I’ll coat her with my cream, shoot it into her every hole, fill her up with it until she’s overflowing, gasping and panting for more. Hell yeah, I want my women drenched in DNA, it’s the best way to mark them, to brand them, they’ll never forget Andrew Fire.

  So yeah, I tapped my foot impatiently in the booth now. Article Thirty-One was doing her thing, twirling about, showing off her assets, and the female was a fine piece of flesh too. Redheaded, nubile, young, just what the Club likes. But I’m not one for redheads, it’s just not my thing. It takes a special guy to dick a redhead, and fuck, I had to leave something for my brothers tonight, I’d already taken the best of the lot.

  So when the screen flashed “Confirmed,” I exited the booth, following the path of flashing lights deep into the cavernous underground of the Club. This place is built like a fortress, an underground sanctuary for its members, untraceable, impossible to detect, and easy to get lost in. There were acres of territory, we’d scoped out the space, buying the land but giving no indication that we were building beneath the desert floor. So yeah, I walked for what seemed like miles, making a mental note to talk to management about that. We needed some people movers or trolleys or shit, this place was way too big to take on foot.

  But finally, I was there. A door slid open, lead
ing to a sumptuously decorated bar, a huge oak slab with a sparkling chandelier up above, lavishly upholstered furniture and best of all, rows and rows of top-shelf liquor gleaming in the lights.

  “Knob Creek,” I growled, seating myself on a stool. “Naw, make that Woodford Reserve, let’s go crazy.”

  And the bartender nodded, silent, dressed like a Prohibition-era barkeep. Like I said, this Club is top-notch and spares no penny, making sure its employees meld with the environment, carefully cultivating an atmosphere, down to the curly moustache this guy sported.

  But whatever. I looked around lazily, surveying the scene. There were a couple hours before the girl would be ready, Article Thirty still had some last minute prep, some clean-up before I could pick her up. So may as well enjoy myself, and the bar was just the place. My brothers sprawled about, seated in the deep club chairs, indulging in cigars, socializing, a sea of males. Sure, there were a few women serving, outfitted in tiny skirts and high heels, their breasts bare, but otherwise, this was an all-male playground. And as I watched, a dude on the far side of the room slapped a waitress’s ass, letting his big hand slide over her flank, graze that luscious flesh.

  But instead of pulling away, the woman merely smiled saucily at him and wiggled her butt teasingly. My brother got a good eyeful, and then went for it. With a nod of his head, he gave her a signal, and sure enough, the waitress obeyed. Carefully, she put her tray of drinks down and then leaned forward, those big boobies swaying under her torso, almost in time to some rhythmic music.

  But this wasn’t about the boobs. Because as she bent over, the blonde flicked her skirt up and oh god, but that pussy, that pulsing, pink twat was on display. Even from the far side of the room I could smell delectable cunt, I could almost see the steam rising from her hole, those soft wet folds engorged, ready for my brother. And like a mofo, he didn’t hesitate. He took his cigar and popping it into his mouth once more, pulled it out, sticky and wet with saliva, before pushing it into her hole.